Cry Uncle
by fac3991
Summary: What if Bobby met the Winchesters under different circumstances? Bobby gets involved in a hunt that's much more complicated than he expected. He begins to grow attached to the teenager who has found himself on the hunted side for a change.
1. Chapter 1

Bobby Singer would have been lying if he had said he thought this would've been a simple job. It turned out to be more complicated than he expected, but after the fact he realized he should have expected that there would be issues.

It started out simple enough. Ian Foster had called him about a demon issue. After the tragic death of his wife, Karen, Bobby poured himself into research in understanding demons. He considered himself something of an expert on the creatures. With this in mind, it was no surprise that he got a call for help with a demon case. The problem was really Foster.

Bobby had worked with Ian Foster before; Bobby had sworn he wouldn't again. It wasn't that Foster was stupid - well, it wasn't just that. It was more that Foster had a tendency to act before he thought, and his decisions were often not ones that Bobby would make. He was reckless and dangerous.

And Bobby would be lying to himself if he didn't think Foster liked hurting the creatures they hunted a little too much.

In fact it was this factor that drove Bobby to take the case in the first place. With a werewolf or a vampire, Bobby figured Foster could go crazy. As long as the job got done, Bobby wouldn't interfere. But a case with a demon? Bobby didn't like the idea of Foster being left to dealt with the host of a demon. Someone innocent, trapped in their own body. Bobby wasn't confident that Foster would see it that way.

Still, when Ian called and said he had a teenager and a case with a demon, Bobby was in no rush to meet Ian at the hunting cabin he was lodging in. He took his time getting there, figuring the kid was probably restrained but otherwise alright in Foster's hands.

His truck finally pulled up to the cabin, and Foster welcomed him as he got out of his truck. Bobby forced a small smirk and said, "Let's get this over with."

As soon as Bobby descended the basement stairs, he knew he was in trouble. He had started the descent with a set and determined gaze - Foster had said it was a teenager and Bobby had a soft spot for kids. He certainly didn't want to let the demon get under his skin.

But Bobby's eyes softened as he took in the trembling shoulders, the lanky arms of a teen still growing into his limbs, and the muffled sniffling coming from beneath the hood. The kid was terrified. Trying his hardest to hide it? Sure. But there was no denying his fear, and Bobby certainly couldn't blame him for it. It wasn't unheard of for a demon to let the host stay in control to try to get some sympathy from a hunter, but it wasn't usually the first move. More of a last resort if the demon couldn't deal with more torture. Hurting a host was a lot harder to justify when a demon wasn't spouting threats and insults at you using the host's body. The most concerning factor for Bobby, however, was that the kid had been tied up and shoved in the corner of a basement. No demon traps in sight, not even a grain of salt.

The boy, having obviously heard their footsteps, had managed to calm his hitching breaths through the hood. He tensed as Bobby stepped closer, pressing himself into the corner. As he moved, muffled whimpers escaped beneath the hood. Bobby bit his lip wondering sorts of injuries the kid was nursing. He gently reached down and tugged the hood off the kid's head. Unruly, chestnut waves of hair fell out and obscured much of the kid's face. The bottom half of his face was hidden as well, wrapped in layer upon layer of silver duct tape gagging the poor kid. Bloodshot eyes of a striking hazel blinked at the sudden change of light, widening as they landed on Bobby. They immediately narrowed into a glare, but Bobby could see a flicker of fear behind the kid's bravado. The kid sniffled again, trying to do away with any evidence that he had been crying; however, the tearstained cheeks and puffy red eyes told their own story. Still, Bobby was impressed. The kid couldn't be older than fifteen or sixteen at the most - Bobby wouldn't think less of him if he were sobbing and pleading. This kid had mettle.

Bobby could see this situation was bad - he'd have to be blind to miss that. But worst of all, he had a sinking feeling this wasn't the simple exorcism he'd been expecting. Ian Foster had never struck Bobby as a genius, but he wouldn't be fool enough to leave a demon possessed teenager free of a devil's trap. The guy didn't even appear to have holy water on his person.

Bobby unscrewed his own flask of the blessed liquid and poured a bit on the kid's head. The teen reacted as one might expect a teen to react if he'd been kidnapped and doused with an unknown liquid. He sputtered back and squeaked behind the several layers of tape wrapped around his head. But he certainly didn't sizzle or smoke.

This kid wasn't possessed.

Bobby rounded on Foster, growling low in his throat, "What in the hell are you playing at? You said this was a case of a demon! The kid ain't even possessed! You son of a bitch-"

Ian interrupted, "Ah ah, I said this was a case involving a demon. I didn't say he was possessed..." he trailed off, smirking at Bobby.

Bobby gaped at him for a moment before glancing at the teen. He certainly didn't seem shocked like Bobby would've expected. Nor did the talk of demonic possession seem to make him anymore frightened than he already was. As Bobby thought this over, Ian watching him in silence until finally Bobby snapped, "Well? Are you gonna explain yourself or am I expected to figure it out?"

"You're right, he's not possessed-"

"-yeah, the holy water told me that much, moron-"

"-but...and this is a big but...this kid is front and center in a big bad's plans for the future."

"...a 'big bad'? I oughta strangle you, you big dope. What's wrong with you? What is your big plan here, what do you think we're gonna do with him, huh?"

"Listen to me, alright. This demon, he's real evil. I been doin' research, Bobby. A string of dead parents, all of 'em died in house fires, right? On the night their kid turns 6 months old. All of 'em! Not to mention the omens leading up to it. So I dug deeper. You ever heard of a yellow-eyed demon?" The kid twitched and tensed up at the discussion taking place, sniffling every once in awhile. "I mean it Bobby, this is real and this is some real dangerous shit."

"Christ," Bobby muttered, turning away from the other hunter and glancing at the kid. He sighed then added, "That doesn't answer the question of what you plan on doin' with him."

"I dunno. Figure out what he is, for starts-"

"He's a kid, dumbass-"

"You don't know that! He's a weapon, Bobby. This demon is bad news, I'm telling you. So we figure him out, what he can do. Crack his skull open and see what we're working with if we have to."

At 'crack his skull open' Bobby thought he might be sick. Possibly that he might attack Foster. The kid heard it and let out a choked sob that broke off into a quiet whimper. Bobby suddenly felt overwhelmed by his guilt - he had felt bad enough the kid had been kidnapped, now they were outright terrorizing him.

"Jesus, Foster, do you even know his name?"

"...Sam. Sam Winchester." Bobby paused for a moment, mulling over the name before Foster tentatively added, "he's...he's John Winchester's son."

The name sounded familiar to Bobby but he couldn't place it. Then suddenly it hit him. He'd heard that name from Pastor Jim Murphy. Shit. Shit. "You mean to tell me you kidnapped a hunter's kid? Just how stupid are you? Christ. And your game plan is to torture him? How old even is the kid?"

"Bobby, I've done the research. I'm onto something here-"

"Save it. Bad enough you've terrorized the son of a fellow hunter, you roped me into it acting like it was a goddamn exorcism! Shit. Shit. Go upstairs, I'll be up in a minute."

"Don't you untie him, Bobby Singer. I mean it, I'll-"

"You won't do a damn thing! Your ideas are what got us into this mess. Christ, I'm just gonna talk to the kid, give him some water. No one is around anyways and you seem to have wrapped a whole roll of tape around his mouth, jackass."

As he skulked away, Foster looked over his shoulder and muttered, "Mark my words, that kid is involved in this demon's plan whether he likes it or not. One day he's gonna be used for something big, and I plan to stop it." With that, Foster disappeared up the stairs leaving the room in silence save for the hitching breaths still coming from the kid bound and gagged in the corner of the room.

Bobby scrubbed a hand down his face before rounding on the teenager - Sam. As Bobby took a step forward a muffled string of pleas escaped behind the layers of tape. No doubt the kid was still stuck on the thought that Bobby intended to torture and kill him. The kid tried to keep it together but Bobby's approach set him off in a panic, tears beginning to trace new paths through the dirt and grime on his face. As Bobby got closer and Sam's face was less obscured by shadows and his own hair, Bobby realized he had already experienced quite the beating. He noticed drying blood which had dripped from his nose which thankfully looked swollen and not broken. Dark bruises covered the left side of Sam's face and there was a small gash at his hairline which appeared to have left the surrounding hair matted with dried blood. As Sam tried to wedge himself even further back into the corner - an impossible task - he let out another pained moan which drew Bobby's attention to his misshapen shoulder. Shit. A dislocated shoulder was a painful injury. The longer it was kept out of joint the more likely that there would be damage. He needed a hospital. Bobby let out a sigh and said, "Aw, hell...you sure are a mess kiddo." Sam turned his head towards Bobby, his hazel eyes shifting from narrow, glaring, and impassive to wide, teary and vulnerable. How long had Foster kept the kid tied up and terrified? Sam's defenses were crumbling and Bobby only wished he had raced to get here the second Ian had called him.

Bobby stooped down, whispering, "Alright, Sam- it's Sam, right?" At the kid's jerky nod, Bobby continued, "Okay, Sam, I need you to stay calm for a minute here. I'm gonna take the tape off your mouth and get you some water. Then I'm gonna figure this out, okay? I'm not gonna let him hurt you anymore, alright?" Another jerky nod as a single tear tracked down his cheek. "Good, you're doing good, kid." He reached into his pocket taking out his pocket knife and slowly opened it, saying, "Alright, there are too many layers, just stay still and I'm gonna cut the tape away. Just stay calm, I'm gonna do my best not to cut you." He quickly sliced through the tape and began working on gently peeling it away, whispering, "that's it, just another minute, I'll have this off in a second..."

As soon as the tape came free, Bobby had to pull a large wad of cloth out of his mouth as well. As gently as he could, Bobby dislodged the cloth which had become crusted with saliva from Sam's mouth. With his mouth free for the first time since his captivity Sam drew in a deep breath which immediately set him off on harsh chain of hacking coughs. As he choked and gasped, Bobby quickly took his flask of holy water and let Sam have a small gulp. Desperately thirsty, Sam let out a keening noise when Bobby removed the flask.

"Gimme a minute, I'm gonna get you some regular water, Sam." Bobby disappeared for a moment before returning quickly with a glass of water. Sam had managed to settle his breathing in the meantime and warily eyed Bobby upon his return. When Bobby guided the glass to his lips he tried to take in large gulps quickly, but Bobby pulled back, saying, "Slow, small sips, kid. Don't want you to get sick." When Sam pulled away he leaned his head against the wall behind him and returned to appraising Bobby with his gaze.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Bobby was not a man of many words, not to mention he had never considered himself an expert in calming down frightened kids. Still, he felt the need to somehow ease Sam's fear. He cleared his throat and said, "I...I don't know how much you were listening to us, Sam...but I don't intend to hurt you...or let him hurt you for that matter," Bobby added looking at the stairs. Sam just stared at Bobby with those piercing eyes. Kid looked like a goddamn kicked puppy with those eyes. Bobby couldn't hold his gaze and had to look away in his guilt. He could try to take the kid out now, but he certainly hadn't come armed like Foster had. He had assumed that most of his weapons would be useless in dealing with a demon possession. Sure he had brought some weapons, but Foster had a whole arsenal. If he couldn't get Ian to see reason he'd have to call in someone for backup.

After a few minutes of silence, Bobby asked, "How old are you, Sam?"

Bobby looked up to see Sam had been biting his lower lip in an effort to keep it from trembling. Finally he croaked out, "F-fourteen...fifteen in two mo-" The kid broke off and then tried to stifle a dry sob. It occurred to Bobby that Sam no longer thought he'd make it to fifteen. The kid composed himself quickly and they returned to sitting in silence. As Bobby racked his brain for a way to set the kid at ease, Sam turned to face the wall. With a few tears breaking free from his steely defenses, Sam choked out a hoarse whisper, "I...I-I'm never gonna see my f-family again...am I?"

Bobby had heard of John Winchester. He knew that he had been training his sons since they were children. Sam probably wasn't afraid of werewolves or demons. He could probably take apart, clean, and reassemble any gun Bobby handed to him. Sam knew how to be a hunter, Bobby was sure of that.

But Sam probably never expected that he'd become the hunted.

And he was terrified.

"Sam? Sam," Bobby said, attempting to draw the kid's face away from the wall, "Look at me, Sam." Bobby peered over his shoulder, making sure Foster hadn't snuck back down the stairs. Taking in Sam's pained expression, Bobby instantly softened, "I'm gonna make sure you get out of this, kiddo."

Sam looked skeptical. Which, to be fair, he was still tied up in a basement staring at a grizzled hunter he had never met. He attempted to steel himself again, muttering "No. You'd have let me go if that were the case." He sniffled and attempted to shift, biting back a moan as it jostled his shoulder. After a moment of silence he eyed the stairs fearfully and added, "He's...h-he's gonna k-kill me."

Bobby gently gripped Sam's knee and squeezed lightly, peering into his hazel eyes.

"Not if I can help it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to those of you who followed, favorited, or reviewed! I have a basic idea of where I want to go with this but I'm not set on how I want to get there yet, so you'll have to bear with me! I can't imagine it being much longer than 2 or 3 more chapters though. But any suggestions for direction or improvement are appreciated!**

 **I suppose I should give a disclaimer that I don't own anything? I don't, unfortunately.**

Bobby wanted to believe that it was merely his conscience guiding him, telling him protecting Sam would be the right the thing to do. That Bobby would do the same for anyone else in Sam's place. And that was certainly a factor. But when he looked at the kid's floppy hair and wide eyes glazed with pain, he was struck by thoughts of his late wife. How he would've been lucky to have a kid like Sam with her. These thoughts sent a spike of pain through his heart with every mournful gaze from Sam.

Not to mention that she'd be certain how to actually offer some comfort to the kid in a moment like this. But Bobby knew there were more pressing matters than Sam's emotional state at the moment - there would be time for that later, and Bobby could only hope his family would be there to take over then.

First things first, Bobby knew he needed a plan. This poor kid in front of him was trembling with either fear or pain - probably both given his out of joint shoulder and other wounds. Or was it hunger? Bobby realized that there were a hundred possibilities as to why the kid was in the state he was in, but all of them boiled down to the simple fact that he had been kidnapped by a lunatic.

A lunatic that was _supposed_ to be Bobby's partner.

Bobby decided the first thing he'd do was ask a few questions, gather information. Then he'd get the kid some food and probably a trip to the bathroom. Bobby figured Foster hadn't exactly been worried about his captive's comfort. He leaned in and said, "Alright, Sam, I'm gonna need some information from you, can you do that?" Sam nodded his head and Bobby decided that, screw Foster, he was untying the kid. He brought his knife out ready to cut him loose.

The kid let out a strangled squeak and his eyes widened with betrayal. As quick as he reacted, he settled his features into a glare that Bobby figured someone menacing had taught him that. His mouth set in a firm line, the only sign of distress were Sam's breaths coming out more quickly than they should have through his nose. Bobby, confused, added, "I'm just gonna ask you some questions, Sam."

Sam choked out a harsh laugh and said, "I guess I better give the answers you want to hear."

Bobby furrowed his brow in confusion before realizing the knife had put Sam on edge. Sam thought Bobby had been playing good cop to start and was getting down to business with the torture. Buttering him up to loosen his tongue before carving him up. This was going to be harder than Bobby expected. Scrubbing a hand down his face he put his knife down. "Sam, I'm gonna start over. I know you're in a lot of pain right now. I want to help you," Bobby peered over his shoulder at the stairs again. "I don't want to scare you more, kid, but that guy upstairs? He has an full arsenal of weaponry. I don't have much on me, kid. I could try and swipe some of his but with the shape you're in right now...I don't want to fight our way out of here, Sam. If it were just my ass on the line I might risk it, but...you really don't look good kid." Sam shifted uncomfortably under Bobby's scrutiny. Bobby could tell he wasn't thrilled with the assessment that he couldn't fight, but Sam knew it was the truth. A numbness was beginning to settle in his arm, which he was admittedly somewhat thankful for if it stopped the unbearable pain. At the same time, he knew it wasn't exactly a great sign.

"Kid, the point of all this...I know how your dad raised you, I've heard of him. I know you don't want to trust me. Hell, I wouldn't either. But I want to help you-"

"Why?" Sam asked, losing his edge for a moment of genuine curiosity.

A fair question, Bobby thought. He wasn't even sure he had the answer. But then it hit him.

"Because you don't deserve this, Sam." Sam sniffled and looked at Bobby with such trust in his sad eyes, Bobby just couldn't let him down. Bobby wondered to himself if Sam had this effect on everyone. He just met the kid and he was ready to put himself in harm's way for him. Bobby thought perhaps Sam trusted him enough to let him cut him loose. He didn't like the position the ropes were forcing his shoulder to remain in. He reached for the knife and said, "I'm just gonna cut you free, alright? I'm gonna cut you free and try to get your shoulder in a better position. I don't think I can put it back in myself since it looks like it's gotten too swollen. I want to get you out, Sam, I hope you trust me in that. I need you to resist the urge I'm sure your dad instilled in you to fight once the ropes are off, alright? I'm not gonna hurt you, I won't fight you. But I don't think you'll get past Foster." Sam nodded and Bobby made quick work of the ropes then trying to get Sam into the most comfortable position possible. He took Sam's wrists and began trying to get his blood circulating again, trying to be gentle with the raw and bloody flesh.

"Thank you," Sam whispered, eyes darting up to Bobby's face before settling on his lap where his wrists were resting.

Satisfied that this was as comfortable as he could make Sam, Bobby settled back and began his questions. "How'd you end up here anyways, kid? Tell me what you can remember leading up to Foster bringing you here."

Sam, still firmly concentrating on his hands, looked exceptionally guilty at such a simple question. He bit his lower lip again to stop it from trembling before croaking out, "I...I had a fight with my dad." He managed to hold back any tears that threatened to fall, but his eyes took on a new shimmer as they looked up at Bobby. "He found a new hunt and w-we had to move again, and," Sam paused and had to suck in a shaky breath, "I-I stormed out. I just went to the library, to clear my thoughts - oh god," Sam's eyes widened further.

"What is it, son?"

"My, m-my brother," Sam whispered, a tear finally breaking free and tracking down his cheek. "He was supposed to come pick me up, said he'd give me a little time to, t-to cool off. He's gotta be going crazy..."

"Don't worry about that right now, Sam, focus. What state were you in?" Bobby had no doubt that they were nowhere near the town Sam had been abducted from, but he was curious to know if they'd remained in the same state.

"South Dakota."

So they had stayed in the state. There was a chance his family could make it here as backup in a reasonable amount of time. He'd have to get in touch with them.

"Do you remember when?"

"It was...I think it was yesterday or the day before? I...he, h-he kept me in his trunk for awhile so I'm not really sure," Sam's voice shook and Bobby had a suspicion that the time spent in the trunk of a car had given Sam a newfound case of claustrophobia.

"That's alright, that's good, Sam. I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna go into town, I'm gonna get us some food, and I'm gonna try to contact your family, okay? Can you give me a number to call?" Once Sam had done that Bobby took him for a quick trip to a bathroom much to Ian's annoyance.

After they returned to the basement, Bobby began debating what his next move should be. Should he tie Sam's wrists again? What if Foster came to inspect and flew into a rage? After all he hadn't even been happy about his bringing Sam to the bathroom. His musings were interrupted when he realized Sam was talking to him.

"Umm, S-Sir?"

"Bobby," he interrupted, "You can call me Bobby."

"Bobby. Uh, Bobby, th-there's a chance...I'm not too sure my family is looking for me..." Sam trailed off sadly, his face flushing as he spoke. Bobby frowned at his words and Sam rushed to continue, "I just mean...I ran away once before so...so they might think I've just done that again." Sam finished with a sniffle. Clearly he had thought this to be the problem from the start. He really thought he was on his own.

"Sam," Bobby squatted down beside him, "I don't know your dad, but I do know he wants you safe. He might make mistakes, God knows not everyone is cut out for fatherhood. But I can guarantee you right now he's a man on a mission, and he's probably closer to finding you than we're giving him credit for." Bobby stood before adding, "And there's no way in hell the brother you told me was going crazy when he couldn't find you at the library ain't doing everything in his power to get you back right now. Whether he thinks you left by choice or not."

At this Sam's lips quirked up in what was almost a smile.

Bobby chewed his lip while looking down at him, before saying, "Sam, I don't want to leave you here alone with him, but I need to go and pick up some supplies and make those calls," Bobby scratched the back of his head. He really didn't want to leave him with Foster. Sam didn't seem keen on the idea either, but Bobby didn't want to make calls for backup that might be overheard either. "I'll...I'll be back as soon as I can."

Sam nodded grimly and then, eying the staircase warily, whispered "Bobby? Will you tell my dad that I'm sorry? For storming out. Just...tell them I l-love them both. And tell my brother to stop beating himself up about letting me run off by myself. Tell him...tell him I said 'Don't worry about me, jerk'," Bobby quirked an eyebrow at that and hoped it wasn't some sort of trick. Sam added, "Just trust me on that one."

"What's your brother's name?"

"Dean," Sam said with a soft smile, the first real smile Bobby had seen from him. The kid had dimples on top of the kicked puppy look? _Jesus_ , Bobby didn't think he'd ever be able to say no to a face like that.

"Alright, Sam."

"A-and Bobby? I just...if I don't, umm - just, thanks."

Bobby had a horrible, sinking feeling that his plan wasn't going to be as simple as he'd like it to be. He desperately hoped Sam's gratitude wasn't premature.

*SPN*SPN*SPN*

Bobby ascended the staircase from the basement before seeking out Foster. He made a show of latching the door that led to the basement before approaching Ian who was lounging on a couch and sharpening a particularly menacing looking blade.

Bobby began, "Look, Foster, let me just get through this without you interrupting. And try not to get to ornery about what I have to say." Foster looked amused but gestured to let Bobby know he had the floor. Bobby blew out a breath and continued, "I know you think you have everything all figured out. But I'd like to take a look at your research, get an idea for this thing myself before we take any action. The kid is really hurt - you did a number on his shoulder. He's harmless enough at the moment so I left him untied in the basement but it's locked up and he can't escape. Now normally I'm a shoot first, ask questions later kind of a guy, but I'm just...I'd like to be certain about all of this before we make any hasty decisions. He's only fourteen and he's a hunter's son. Now I'm going to go into town, pick up some things that we might need for some spells or rituals that might give us a little more insight. Not to mention food, I think we could all use a bite to eat. I'll be back in a half an hour - an hour tops," Bobby finished pausing to see how Ian would react to all of this information.

Ian seemed to be thinking it over. Bobby began to sweat knowing had didn't have anything on him besides a small pocket knife and he could see a gun tucked into Foster's belt besides the knife which had been freshly sharpened. Bobby relaxed as Ian relented, saying, "Alright, Singer. Go pick up some food, do whatever research you like. But you better start wrapping your head around the fact that Sam Winchester ain't a kid. He's a ticking time bomb, and I'm going to do what has to be done to neutralize that threat. If you can't stomach that? Fine. Go find another hunt. I called you up because I thought you'd know the most about demons. But make no mistake, you ain't in charge on this hunt. And I ain't stopping until Sam Winchester is dead and burned."

Finished with his speech, Ian turned on his heel and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Bobby snorted, figured that the moron would pick up beer but no food beside a few bags of junk scattered around the place.

As Bobby marched to his car and began the drive into town he began reflecting on what Foster had to say. A weapon? Not a kid. A weapon. Was that possible? Could a powerful enough demon somehow twist an innocent kid into a soulless weapon that somehow managed to put on a performance that could fool even a seasoned hunter like Bobby? Was it possible that he was falling into some sort of trap?

But then Bobby thought of Sam's dimpled grin as he'd revealed his brother's name. No way in hell a demon could fake the love that shone through Sam's eyes when he talked about his family.

Mind made up, Bobby pulled into the nearest gas station and went to a pay phone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks again to those of you who reviewed, followed, or favorited. Bear in mind, Dean and John have been without Sam for a few days and have no leads on how to find them, so I decided to make them more desperate, less...angry. The anger will come though! Leave me your thoughts and opinions in a review, I'd love to know what you think!**

 **I still own nothing.**

Bobby bit his lip as he dialed. He knew this wasn't going to be pretty. He'd ease in and alert Jim Murphy first. Jim would be all pissed to hell that Bobby got involved with Ian Foster, but the man would certainly be willing to help him out. Especially with Sam Winchester caught in the crosshairs.

As soon as he heard the other line come to life, Bobby said, "Hi, Jim."

"What's wrong, Singer?"

"You know me too well, Pastor. I've gotten myself into a spot of trouble."

Bobby could hear a wry smile through the phone as Jim responded, "That seems to have become your modus operandi, my friend." Bobby knew his voice would lose all humor once he explained himself.

"Jim, do you know a Sam Winchester?"

"Certainly. A very bright boy- his father John is a hunter. Said he'd be bringing the boy to my neck of the woods around his birthday. Why do you ask?"

"Well I'm getting to know him under less than desirable circumstances, Jim. I, uhh...I took a hunt with Ian Foster."

Jim Murphy let out a disapproving cluck through the phone, "Now, Bobby, you know that man is bad news-"

"Let me finish, Jim. It gets worse unfortunately. Listen, Jim, you're a man of God and you know the Winchesters so I'm hoping I can trust you with what I'm about to tell you. Foster told me that he had some demon related case and that he was only about an hour and a half from the salvage yard, so I thought it would be a quick exorcism but...it turned out to be more complicated. Foster has it into his head that Sam is...is some kind of demonic weapon. He's got the kid in the basement of the hunter's cabin nearby, he's all beat to hell-" Bobby broke off as Jim hissed in anger and let out a curse through the other line. "Jim, this is bad. Foster came stocked to fight a war and I've got nothing, I won't be able to get the kid out without someone to help me."

"That man is reprehensible. Bobby, I'll be on my way shortly but it's gonna take me awhile to get there-"

"That's alright, you head to the salvage yard and let me know when you get here. I'll try Caleb too and hope he's in the area."

"That's a good idea, Bobby. But keep in mind...he doesn't know the Winchesters, Bobby. You may have to hold your cards a little closer to your chest with him. I trust him with my life, but I don't know that I'd be willing to risk Samuel's life with all the details you gave me."

Bobby sucked on the inside of his cheek as he mulled it over, "I'll be as vague as possible, Jim, but Caleb's no fool; he'll know something's up. I have faith in him, Jim. Once he sees the kid..."

"Yes, Sam has a gift for endearing himself to those around him quickly. It's something in the eyes."

"And the goddamn dimples," Bobby muttered.

"Alright, Bobby. I'm getting in my car now. You call, Caleb. I suppose I'll give the Winchesters a call, they must be going out of their minds with worry."

"Nah, Jim, I, uh...Sam wanted me to say a couple things to them. Maybe...maybe give them a call later and vouch for me so they don't shoot me when we finally meet."

"Will do. Be careful, Bobby." A click indicated the end of their conversation. One down, two to go. Bobby checked the time. He wished he could make a trip back to the salvage yard but there and back it's take 3 hours and Foster would be far too suspicious - if he wasn't already. Besides, Bobby felt sick enough leaving the kid with Foster for an hour tops.

He dialed the phone again and almost instantly heard a grumbled, "Yeah?"

"Tell me you're in my neck of the woods, Caleb?"

"Funny you ask, Singer. I'm headed your way right now. I was finishing up a job a couple hours away. That idiot Ian Foster left a message saying he needed a little help on a job a few days ago so I thought I'd come by and see if he still needs any help-"

"Oh, he needs help," Bobby muttered. "That little bastard, I wasn't even his first choice? Figures."

"No, but I take it you are the schmuck who offered your assistance?" Caleb chuckled.

"Caleb, you trust me, right?"

There was a long pause over the line, Caleb's sarcastic exterior melting as he took in Bobby's tone. "Yeah, Bobby, of course. What's going on?"

"Listen, Caleb, I think the less you know, the better. But Foster's gone off the deep end. He kidnapped John Winchester's kid and has his mind set on torturing him. _The_ John Winchester. The hunter. Now I want to be straight with you, it's possible someone has future plans that involve the kid...but...but I've met him. He don't have an evil bone in his body, and Foster has his mind made up. He's gonna kill him, man-"

"Bobby, Bobby," Caleb interrupted as the grizzled hunter began speeding up his speech. "Ian Foster is a fool and a sadist. I ain't about to let him hurt some innocent kid, especially one of our own. Gimme your location, I'll be there in thirty."

Bobby smiled. He knew he could count on Caleb. Bobby squeezed the bridge of his nose as he prepared for his final phone call. This one was going to hurt, but he couldn't stall any longer.

Blowing out a breath Bobby dialed once more.

"Hello?" A gruff voice said from the other end of the line. When Bobby didn't speak immediately, the man added, "Who is this?"

Bobby cleared his throat, "Uh, is this John Winchester?"

After a pause on the other end, the man said, "Who's asking?" The voice had an edge of anger, but it had begun to take on a strained, desperate sound as well as if the man on the other end knew what sort of news Bobby's call would bring.

"My name is Bobby Singer, I'm...I'm a friend of Pastor Jim Murphy's. I, uh, I'm trying to get some help for Sam Winch-" before Bobby could even finish the name the man on the other end

Began shouting.

"Sammy?! You know where Sammy is? Is he hurt, I mean he's alright, right?" The voice had morphed from a gruff hunter to worried, frightened young man. Suddenly Bobby realized he was talking to Sam Winchester's brother.

"Is this Dean?"

"Yeah, yeah. My brother- is he okay?" Bobby could hear another voice in the background urging Dean to not be so open in his distress without knowing what Bobby's angle was, but the voice was laced with concern despite the frustration it seemed to express.

Well that answered Sam's question as to whether or not his family was looking for him. They were panicked.

"Listen, I don't have a lot of time. I'm gonna level with you, Dean: Sam is in trouble. This hunter nabbed him outside of the library he went to and he's keeping him in one of the hunter's cabins in South Dakota. This guy, Foster...he asked me for help on this 'hunt,' but as soon as I got there I knew something was up. I'm doing what I can to get Sam out, but-"

"You have coordinates for the cabin?" A new voice rumbled through the phone.

Bobby rattled them off before saying, "John? I want you to know, I am trying to keep your son safe, but this guy is hell bent on killing him. I...he made it seem like it'd be a quick exorcism, I'm not exactly equipped for a shoot out."

"We'll be ready." Josh paused through the phone before adding, "How do I know this ain't a trap? Because I swear if you've hurt a hair on his head...how do I know my son's even..." John Winchester trailed off, his voice softening, as he contemplated even the thought that his son could already be dead.

"John I'm not gonna lie to you, Sam doesn't look too good. I checked his wounds over and I didn't see anything life threatening, but he's gotta be in a hell of a lot of pain. You got no reason to trust me, I know that...but I want to get Sam back to you safe and sound." The silence on the other end of the phone made Bobby suspect that John Winchester wasn't quite convinced, but he supposed the man had every right to be skeptical. Hell, Bobby had been wary of trusting Caleb with information on Sam and he wasn't even his kid.

Bobby remembered Sam's request and quickly continued, "He...he said you had a fight. That he was sorry for storming off and loves you. He, uh, wanted me to tell Dean something too." He heard rustling through the phone before Dean's voice urged him to continue. "Sam said, and this is a direct quote...'Don't worry about me, jerk.'" There was an odd choked laugh on the other end before Bobby added, "I assume that's a brother thing."

"Yeah," Dean said, "a pain in the ass, little brother thing." There was a stretch of silence before Dean's voice returned thick with emotion, "You keep my brother safe, Singer."

"I'll do everything I can to protect him."

With nothing left to say, Bobby heard a click from the other end. Now all that was left was to gather some food and other unnecessary items to make Foster think he'd come here purely for the purposes of gathering supplies.

*SPN*SPN*SPN*

As Bobby approached the cabin in his truck he felt his veins fill with ice.

Foster's car was gone. Foster's car was gone and the door to the cabin was swinging open in the wind as if someone had fled in a hurry. Foster's car was gone and there were signs of struggle in the grass leading up to where his tire tracks were imprinted from speeding away in a hurry. Foster's car was gone and tiny drops of blood were speckled on the ground exiting the house. No, no, no. _No_.

Foster's car was gone. Foster was gone.

And he'd taken Sam with him.

*SPN*SPN*SPN*

Bobby honestly couldn't remember what exactly he'd done upon the realization that Foster had taken Sam right out from under him. He flew into a rage and when he came out of it the food he had purchased had painted the walls and several items in the cabin were broken. Descending the staircase into the basement Bobby saw glass littering the floor from what appeared to be Foster's shattered beer bottle.

Bobby tore his baseball cap off his head and threw it across the room. Sam was gone, kidnapped by that lunatic - again - and Bobby all but served him up on a platter. He felt sick, he could practically feel the terror lingering in the room.

Fighting back nausea at the sight of a small pool of blood in the corner where Bobby first found Sam, Bobby tore out his cell phone and punched in Foster's number.

Bobby could practically hear the reptilian smirk through the cell phone as Foster answered, "Well, hello there, Singer. What can I do for you?"

Bobby could hear some background sound that he couldn't place and was straining to hear before responding angrily, "Where's Sam?"

"He's with me. Can't you hear him?" Bobby once again tried to place the sound. A rhythmic thumping noise interspersed with a horrible wailing. Ian chuckled menacingly, "Turns out the kid doesn't like enclosed spaces much."

Oh god, Sam was in the trunk of his car again. Suddenly Bobby began picking up snippets of Sam's dreadful screams, pleading to be let out, insisting that there wasn't enough air. Bobby heard Sam call for his dad and brother, but then he called out Bobby's name as well and he felt all the air leave his lungs.

He'd failed the kid not even half an hour after he'd promised his family he'd protect him. He'd failed him _as he was making that promise_.

"I have to give the kid credit," Ian continued, "he didn't bat an eyelash at the knife I used on him to get him into the car in the first place. Managed to hold back his screams when I tied him back up, and I know his shoulder must be killing him. He even managed to keep himself together for the first twenty minutes of our drive. But that hot, tight trunk and all his gangly limbs squeezed into that space...it's getting to him now I guess."

"I'm gonna kill you, Foster," Bobby seethed, blinking back furious tears of his own.

"You see this is why I took him outta there. You've got it so goddamn twisted, Singer!" Bobby couldn't bring himself to respond, distracted by the wails he could hear in the background.

He drove a fist into the wall of the basement as Sam's screeched, " _Oh god, please God, Bobby come back_ ," filtered through the phone. If he hurt his hand at all be certainly didn't feel the pain.

"Where are you taking him?"

"Do you really think I'm gonna tell you, Singer? Did you think I was stupid? That I didn't know you were calling someone else to come and help you out? I'm taking him somewhere to neutralize the threat. I told you that when I left the house. Maybe I'll just leave him locked in my trunk until he croaks. At the rate he's carrying on that might be sooner rather than later..."

Bobby had to swallow the bile that had risen in his throat.

"Foster, you don't know who you're messing with. You better not hurt that kid any worse."

"Why are daddy and his brother coming to save him? Dean, right? He's been screaming that name a lot-"

"You better hope it's them that catch up to you, Ian. If I get to you first and that kid isn't alive and well, I will make your death last for _weeks_. I will _peel_ the goddamn _skin_ from your _bones_. You're a dead man walking, you hear? _Do you hear me_!"

Evidently, Foster had heard enough as he hung up on Bobby.

Bobby punched the wall again for good measure before groaning and punching in another number. All the phone calls he made today, this was one he really didn't want to make.

"Winchester? I got some bad news..."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to those reading and commenting, I really appreciate the feedback! There is some implied but not witnessed violence. I don't think it would go beyond the T rating but be warned. Thanks to all the new followers and favorites, leave me a comment to know what you think! Probably only a chapter or two left!**

 **Still own nothing.**

Caleb arrived while the Winchesters were still screaming at Bobby through the phone.

Bobby tried to be as withholding as he possibly could be on the phone with the Winchesters. They had a right to know certainly that Sam was in more trouble than even he had previously imagined, but Bobby wasn't so sure they needed to know the youngest Winchester's travel accommodations - much less how he was reacting to them. The Winchesters weren't stupid though and they quickly realized how bad this was for their youngest family member.

Needless to say, they weren't pleased.

Truthfully, Bobby didn't even try to defend himself from their ire. He should have just stepped outside and made the calls on his cell phone. He honestly thought that Foster had believed that he was just going on a supply run. He had underestimated Ian Foster's intelligence and, unfortunately, it was Sam who was paying the price.

Bobby would have let Dean Winchester make good on the threats he was shouting through the phone if he thought it might erase Sam Winchester's terrified sobbing from his mind.

When he heard the approaching engine of a car, Bobby stormed to the front of the cabin ready for an all out brawl with Foster. He breathed out a sigh of relief seeing Caleb's approach and then an idea began forming in his head.

 _Caleb._

Caleb had been Foster's first choice.

Foster didn't know Bobby had called Caleb as well.

They had a chance.

*SPN*SPN*SPN*

Once he had gotten the Winchesters calmed down enough, Bobby presented his idea through the phone. Get Caleb to acquire the location. Have him go in while they approach at a safe distance. Pray to God that Sam wasn't too badly injured - or worse. The Winchester's were still probably about two hours away - although Bobby assumed that with them breaking every speed limit they might catch up far sooner. Bobby was confident in Caleb's and his own abilities, not to mention Caleb had come with an arsenal of weaponry to choose from.

"And why should we trust you now?" John Winchester growled through the phone. "Why should we trust either of you?"

Finally Bobby had enough and snapped, "Trust us or don't. I wasn't asking your permission, Winchester, I was letting you in on the plan. You can figure out your own, but while you're searching for a lead I'll be saving your son."

Caleb's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Bobby's sudden tirade. On the other end of the phone John Winchester sat in stunned silence while Dean looked on wearing an expression remarkably similar to Caleb's.

"We'll be there as soon as we can," John Winchester finally responded.

"I'll keep you updated."

Once Bobby hung up with the Winchesters, he urged Caleb to call Foster to try to set up a meeting. Caleb hesitated, looking at Bobby without the mischievous twinkle that was customary of the hunter.

"Bobby, you know I'll follow you and help you out no matter what," Caleb began, "but just so I have an idea...where do you see this going. I mean if we find the kid alive-"

"That kid is named Sam Winchester," Bobby interrupted. "He's fourteen, he has an older brother and a father and they're all hunters. Start thinking of him as such and not just some kid. And it's not if. It's when we find him alive."

"Right, I know that, Bobby," Caleb backtracked looking flustered. "Look that's not the point I was trying to make...where do you see this going?"

"We find Sam-"

"No, look I know that part. I'm talking about Foster, Bobby," Caleb looked slightly squeamish as he brought up the other hunter. "The way I see it, he ain't gonna stop until Sam's dead. I just want to make sure before I make this phone call that you know what we're getting into. For this to end - I mean, really end - someone is gonna end up dead."

Silence hung in the air as Bobby thought about Caleb's words. Truthfully, everything had happened so fast that Bobby hadn't really thought about having to kill Foster. Sure, he'd threatened to kill him, and he certainly wanted to get his hands on the man, but he hadn't really thought about actually killing him.

"Well," Bobby responded slowly, "I...I won't let that person be Sam."

Caleb nodded and then said, "You know, Bobby...this may not be over. I mean Foster ain't gonna go down without a fight, for all we know he might have told other hunters. Not to mention other hunters might not take Foster's death well-"

"Goddamn it, Caleb, don't you think I know that! I know! I know all of this! Not two hours ago a scared, innocent fourteen year old kid said that Foster was gonna kill him- and do you know what I said? I said-" Bobby broke off, his voice clogging with emotion. "I said that I wouldn't let anything happen to him." Bobby paused, before pinning Caleb with a fierce gaze and adding, "That's a promise I intend to keep. Now, if...if you don't want to be a part of this I'll understand, hell I won't even blame you. But we're wasting time."

Caleb let his lips quirk up a bit before saying, "This must be one hell of a fourteen year old. I gotta meet him." He dialed the phone and added, "You owe me a steak and a lot of drinks for this one, Singer."

Caleb put his phone on speaker and they waited until they heard a click indicating Foster had answered.

"Hey, Foster, you still at the cabin in South Dakota?" Caleb began.

There was silence on the other end for a few moments. Bobby was happy that they couldn't hear Sam's screaming - hopefully they had stopped driving- but, on the other hand, it would have been nice to hear verification that he was still alive.

"Nah, I had to move on," Foster finally responded.

"Oh? You finished up that hunt then?"

"No, I'm, uh...still working on it. I've got a...connection to a demon who is being...less than cooperative."

"Huh," Caleb responded, playing dumb, "did you still want some help, or are you all set?" Bobby was impressed at Caleb's remarkable performance and suddenly began to wonder how often the sarcastic man had lied to him and gotten away with it.

Foster was clearly mulling it over, and Bobby was chewing at his fingernail so hard that he would probably start gnawing on finger if he didn't answer shortly.

"Yeah, Caleb. Yeah."

"Alright, where are you? Need me to bring anything along?"

Foster rattled off some coordinates - only about a forty-five minute drive - before adding, "Maybe bring along a first aid kit. I left the cabin in a hurry and the little shit broke my nose I think."

Bobby couldn't help but grin at that. He knew the kid had mettle.

"The demon did?" Caleb asked.

"Uh huh. Listen, Caleb...I should warn you. It's a young kid we're dealing with. If that makes you at all...squeamish...don't show up. I'm trying to get some answers from him and no one'll stop me from doing that. You still in?"

Caleb paused, looking up at Bobby, "Cost of doing business. I'll be there shortly, I'm not far. See ya soon."

*SPN*SPN*SPN*

With Pastor Jim and the Winchesters still a good distance away, Bobby knew it was just him and Caleb on this rescue mission. He had given Pastor Jim the task of finding a nearby medical facility that wouldn't ask too many questions. Bobby knew they would need it.

Bobby parked a safe distance from what turned out to be an abandoned little house on the outskirts of the town over. The surrounding area had either fallen apart or was in development, but Bobby didn't really stop to find out which. It simply meant the area was isolated enough that no one would notice a teenager screaming.

Bobby watched Caleb approaching the house from his hiding spot. Bobby scowled when Foster emerged with that smug smile. Bobby did brighten a little when he saw that, sure enough, Sam had broken the man's nose.

Foster welcomed, Caleb who shook the man's hand and said something Bobby could only guess at. When Foster gestured at the cellar door which was blocked with a wooden bar on the outside of the house. Bingo.

That had to be where Sam was.

Bobby silently thanked Caleb, who proceeded to grab the first aid kit and point to the house. Once they disappeared indoors, Bobby ran to the cellar.

Before he had even descended the cellar steps, Bobby could smell the dank, moldy scent of the basement mixed with the undeniable metallic tang of blood. He braced himself as best he could as he went down the stairs, knowing he would never be able to prepare for what he was about to see.

Shit. _Shit._

Sam was wrapped practically from shoulders to wrists in silver duct tape, with his legs bound at the ankle and above the knee. Foster wasn't taking any chances. Bobby was only slightly relieved that he could hear the kid's harsh, wet breathing - until the scene around him told the story of how Sam got this way. A damp towel. A bucket half full of water near Sam's body.

Foster was a dead man.

Sam, this time blindfolded with duct tape instead of gagged, had obviously heard Bobby's descent and assumed it was Foster coming back for more. In his fevered state, he begged, "N' m're. Pl's." Bobby tried to hush him as he approached, but Sam merely attempted to wriggle away while gasping out, "I...I d-don't know...'nything."

"Sam...Sam shh, it's alright. It's Bobby. It's Bobby, you remember me?" Bobby grasped Sam's legs as he fought back feebly before collapsing back with a sob. "Sam, I'm here to get you out. I'm gonna cut you free, alright?"

"B-Bobby? _Bobby_ , B-Bobby you- you gotta- I can't do this anymore, you gotta get me outta here," Sam began to tremble as Bobby started to cut away the tape. "P-please, _please_ don't leave a-again-" Sam broke off with a hacking cough and Bobby gently peeled the tape from his eyes, revealing bruised and swollen lids. Sam blinked at Bobby owlishly, a few tears slipping down bruised cheeks.

"Sam, listen to me. Listen. I'm not gonna leave you. I'm getting you away from here. I...I'm sorry I left to begin with, kiddo," Bobby brushed at Sam's tears gently, adding, "I'm taking you to your family. Your brother. We're gonna get you fixed up."

"I want De'n," Sam whispered, lip trembling. He hissed as his arms and legs were lit with pins and needles as all the tape was cut.

"We're going to him now, okay? We gotta move Sam, I know this'll hurt but we gotta go," Bobby murmured gently as he took hold of Sam's good arm and hoisted it across his shoulders, leaving Sam against him. Bobby gripped a gun in his hand while awkwardly supporting the majority of Sam's weight. For being all gangly arms and legs the kid wasn't light.

Bobby had just reached the light filtering in from the staircase when a shadow blocked him and the sound of a gun cocking froze him in his path.

He moved to raise his gun when Foster's voice rang out, "Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn't do that. You might be fast enough to shoot me before I get you, but right now my gun's trained on young Samuel. Drop it and drop him."

Bobby froze for a moment, but Foster bringing his finger back on the trigger ever so slightly had him cursing and dropping his weapon. As he gently lowered Sam, who seemed to delirious to understand what was going on, Bobby bit his lip and asked, "Where's Caleb?"

Foster snorted before answering, "Resting. He was a little too eager to keep me from the cellar. I was worried this would happen, but Winchester's a tough nut to crack so I was hoping he'd really be able to help loosen his tongue."

"You _bastard_ -"

"I'm the bastard! You've betrayed one of your own! _Twice!_ For this _monster_ ," Foster added, spitting at Sam's body. Keeping the gun pinned on Bobby now, Foster was steadily forcing Bobby to the corner of the cellar.

"I think I'm perfectly capable of recognizing a monster when I see one, Foster," Bobby remarked as Foster nudged Sam's unconscious form with his foot. "You _waterboarded_ a _fourteen year old_!"

" _Why don't you get it_! He isn't some innocent kid! If he lives, it means the end of you, the end of me, and a hell of a lot of kids who are actually innocent! And we could've saved a hell of a lot of lives if you'd helped me on this hunt instead of doing _everything_ you could to _get in my goddamn way!_ " Foster screamed, the veins in his neck bursting as he shouted. "You may have stopped me from getting the information I wanted, but there will be more where this kid came from. It won't stop me from doing what has to be done." Foster took aim at Bobby once more and added, "Starting with you."

Bobby glared at Foster once more before closing his eyes. He wouldn't be keeping that promise to Sam and his family after all. Foster have him a smug smile before pulling back on the trigger.

A gunshot rang out in the small cellar.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up! It's been a hectic work week. But here it is. At least one more chapter to go!**

 **Thanks to everyone who gave me some feedback! Keep it coming.**

Sam Winchester, not quite as unconscious as Bobby had previously suspected, had managed to get a hold of Bobby's gun and fired off a shot at Foster.

 _Mettle_.

Blood loss, a dislocated shoulder, and a general trembling in his hands that had been present since Foster had taken him caused Sam's shot to go a little wide - if he had been trying to kill Foster. Still, he managed to put a bullet in Foster's shoulder, which Bobby figured was only fair given the damage Foster had done to Sam's shoulder.

And anyways, a defensive move or not, Bobby wasn't exactly keen on the idea of a fourteen year old killing Foster to save him. Soulful eyes like Sam's? Bobby figured those came along with a hell of a guilty conscience.

Besides, it was enough of an opening for Bobby.

As soon as Foster let out a cry of pain, Bobby dove at him, reaching for his gun. The force of the attack sent the gun clattering to the floor to the opposite side of the room. They grappled with each other for a moment, but Foster managed to get the upper hand delivering a painful blow to Bobby's face and sending him to the ground. Pulling out a knife, Foster rounded on Sam, kicking the kid's gun away and crunching two of Sam's fingers beneath his foot in the process.

At Sam's agonized shriek, Bobby frantically dove at Foster's gun which had landed in the back corner of the cellar.

Bobby heard Caleb shout from above ground, "The cellar!", just as he whipped around to take aim at Foster.

As Bobby scrambled for a gun, Foster straddled Sam's slim frame and prepared to deliver a fatal blow. He leaned into Sam's face, brandishing a knife and snarling, "I should've started with you, you little bast-"

He was cut off by the sound of two guns firing.

Two bullets hit their mark, and Foster's body crumpled on top of Sam, who gave a startled yelp in response.

Two men, neither of whom Bobby recognized as Caleb, took two steps at a time before reaching Sam. Bobby had already begun the process of removing Foster's body when two pairs of calloused hands began assisting him.

The Winchesters had to have broken every traffic law imaginable to make the drive this quickly.

Bobby couldn't exactly blame them.

John Winchester, wielding a smoking gun that matched the one in Bobby's grip, dragged the body off of his fallen son by the hair before delivering a vicious kick to the corpse. Bobby couldn't exactly blame the man, he felt the desire to do the same himself.

Meanwhile, Dean Winchester had dropped to his knees and cradled his brother's face with his hands, murmuring through a voice thick with emotion, " _Sammy_. Sammy, come on little brother. Look at me." Sam, whose last memory had to be of a psychopath leaning over him with a knife, whimpered and tried to squirm away. Dean scooted around him so that he could brace Sam's back against his chest and hug him closer in the process. All the while he kept chanting, "It's me, kiddo. It's Dean. Open your eyes for me, _please_."

As Bobby watched this he was overwhelmed with guilt. Bobby was coming out of this with no more than a black eye. Sam was going to need all kinds of therapy after this.

Eventually, Sam's fever bright eyes cracked open and glanced up at the man cradling him. Bobby caught a glimpse of a tear leaking out of Sam's eye as well as his dimples making an appearance with an astonished smile. Then Sam crumpled and turned his cheek as much as he could in his position, nuzzling his head into his brother's shirt. Dean, clearly a seasoned little-brother-comforter, was ready for the action with soothing words and gestures, softly hushing his traumatized sibling. Bobby heard him choke out in no more than a whisper, "I was so damn scared, kiddo. Don't you _ever_ disappear again, you hear?" Evidently Sam heard and understood as his sobs became more muffled against his brother's chest.

John finished his assault on the dead body when he heard his youngest son's wet, hitching gasps for breaths. His face softened instantly as his eyes fell on Sam trembling in Dean's arms.

" _Sammy_ ," he whispered, sliding next to his sons gently. Sam eyed his father and Bobby instantly recognized a face he himself had seen merely a few hours earlier. Sam's mouth tightened into a straight line as he attempted to tamp down his emotions in the presence of his father.

John Winchester clearly saw this as well, murmuring, "No, Sammy. Let it out. It's okay, kiddo." Sam's face crumbled once again as he reached out and gripped his father's leather jacket in a tight fist. "It's okay. We're here now, Sammy."

The elder Winchesters now clutched the youngest between them attempting to soothe his broken sobbing as he choked out, "I'm sorry, I'm s-so _sorry_...I love you...I love you, don't leave me, _please_."

Bobby watched the family reuniting in some sort of dream state, unaware of anything else in the room. He was broken out of his reverie when he noticed that Caleb had slipped down the stairs as well, his wrists bearing rope burns and a length of rope still hanging off one. They each looked each other up and down before giving each other a nod, satisfied with the general lack of injuries thy bore.

Bobby only wished he could say the same for Sam.

Bobby cleared his throat gently and murmured, "John? I'm gonna go call Pastor Jim, I'm sure he found a doctor nearby who won't ask questions."

John slid a soothing hand through Sam's chestnut locks and gave a grim nod of approval.

*SPN*SPN*SPN*

After a great deal of fighting from the older Winchesters, they agreed to let Bobby drive them to the hospital Pastor Jim had recommended.

He couldn't say he blamed them for wanting to take Sam now and be leave this whole situation in the dust. But Sam did desperately need a hospital, and if Bobby drove the John and Dean would be free to focus on Sam on the ride there.

And Bobby would be damned if he wasn't going to the hospital and making sure the kid was okay.

Caleb would stay behind and deal with the body. Hopefully he'd burn the whole damn house down. Once he was all done he'd meet them at the hospital and take Bobby back to get his car. Dean was gripping his brother's limp frame like his life depended on it, refusing assistance even from his father to carry Sam. Bobby whistled when he caught sight of the Winchesters' vehicle. A '67 Chevy Impala.

John, seeing Bobby eying the car, commented, "You put so much as a scratch on her and I'll kill you, Singer."

Bobby smirked but nodded in response, when Dean angrily growled, "If you're responsible for so much as a scratch on my little brother, I'll kill you-"

"Dean," Sam admonished quietly, snuggling closer to his brother's chest.

"Yeah, yeah, runt, I know," Dean smiled softly at the bundle of brother in his arms. He gave Bobby the impression that carrying Sam from danger wasn't exactly new to him. "It's a good thing you're all skinny, gangly limbs, Sammy. If you had any meat on your bones this would be a lot harder."

Sam looked up at his brother and Bobby caught another flash of dimples.

Bobby had been worried enough about Sam's injuries, but it seemed that he had no life-threatening injuries. Painful injuries, certainly. But he would heal.

His emotional state had become Bobby's primary concern. Bobby had predicted that Sam would be traumatized. That he wouldn't be the same kid his family had known before his kidnapping.

Seeing his older brother coax those dimples out of hiding? Bobby felt a vice around his stomach unclench.

Sam would be just fine.

As Dean got Sam and himself settled in the back seat, John Winchester approached Bobby with the keys to his car. He pressed them into Bobby's palm an murmured quietly, "Drive carefully, Singer. There's precious cargo in my backseat."

*SPN*SPN*SPN*

As soon as they got to the hospital, Sam was quickly whisked away for tests and presumably for an operation for his shoulder. Pastor Jim's doctor of choice was a man named Dr. Jenkins. He was an ER doctor but had patched up his fair share of hunters, having had a poltergeist problem of his own a number of years back. They had gotten really lucky with a doctor who had the means to operate on Sam's shoulder without involving the local police who would certainly have questions about Sam's state.

Still, given that it was the ER, John was immediately loaded down with paperwork to fill out about his son. Seeing his other son frantically pacing as they awaited news on Sam, John handed the stack of paperwork to him. Bobby was surprised to see the young man accept it without complaint, grateful for a distraction from the worrying he was experiencing.

Satisfied that his oldest son was preoccupied, John approached Bobby, who was standing in a corner of the waiting room.

"Alright, Singer, I know you helped my son out today. Helped me out in finding him. But...I...I ain't exactly about to forget that you were partnered with the man who tried to kill my youngest son...as soon as your friend gets here, I want you gone. And I don't want to see you again. _Understand_?"He was wearing a formidable expression that Bobby was certain was supposed to intimidate him. But Bobby was a hunter and wouldn't be bullied into leaving.

He was going to make sure Sam Winchester was alright.

"I don't think _you_ understand, Winchester," Bobby responded without missing a beat. "I don't think you know what you're getting into here. I don't think I even understand." Bobby paused, noticing that John seemed unmoved. He peered over at Dean, engrossed in the paperwork, before lowering his voice and continuing, "What I _do_ understand, Winchester, is that if that moron Foster could figure out a connection between Sam and this yellow-eyed demon-" Bobby broke off at John's sharp glare.

In a low voice, John snarled, "Are you threatening me, Singer? If you so much as _think_ of hurting one of my sons-"

"Open your damn eyes, John," Bobby hissed angrily, "the threat is there! And it ain't coming from me. Don't you see? You've got bigger problems than me. I'm not saying you have to like me, trust me, or even keep me involved. But I'm going to do everything I can to keep your kid safe. And before I'm on my way, I'm going to wait here and make sure he's okay."

Bobby moved to push past Winchester but was stopped by a firm hand on his chest. Firm, but not aggressive, Bobby noted thankfully.

"How bad is this?" John whispered sadly, the first traces of fear trickling into his expression. "I mean...how many more are gonna come after my son?"

"I...I don't know," Bobby said gently. "If we're lucky word won't get out about Foster - he wasn't that well liked. Others might find out, but what concerns me more is the demon involvement. I'm assuming based on your earlier reaction that you know a little something about that?"

"Not nearly enough apparently..."

"Well...I...I'd be happy to help you with that. If they think Sam is connected to this demon, other hunters won't like it. But he's got you and Dean. He's got Pastor Jim, and I'm sure Caleb would offer his services...he's...he's definitely got my protection if he needs it."

John eyed Bobby carefully before nodding carefully. His lips turned up slightly before he added, "You're not so bad, Singer."

Bobby smirked in response. As John turned to return to his older son - who was now eying Bobby and John suspiciously - Bobby gently gripped his arm. "John, you...you have one hell of a son. You just do what you have to do to keep him safe, okay?"

"Two."

"What's that?" Bobby asked.

John looked at Dean and smiled, "I have two sons. And...I'd...I'd appreciate your help in keeping them safe. They have a habit of getting into trouble."

"We're worth it," Dean said with a smirk, not even looking up from the paperwork he was still working through.

Bobby liked these Winchesters.

*SPN*SPN*SPN*

Although Bobby wasn't keeping an eye on the time, but he knew it had been at least a couple of hours of waiting. Dean had long since finished the paperwork and was back to pacing, while John remained seated biting at his nails.

Finally Dr. Jenkins came out and said, "Family of Samuel Winchester?"

Dean practically pounced, blurting out, "Is my brother okay?", before Bobby or John had even gotten to their feet.

Dr. Jenkins chuckled - a pretty good sign - before stating, "You must be Dean. Your brother is going to be just fine. He had two broken fingers which we reset, a couple of stab wounds that were cleaned and stitched, and the worrying shoulder injury. He's going to need to go through some physical therapy, but I'm confident that he'll regain full mobility in no time. We've got him set up in a brace to limit the movement for now and it's going to hurt for some time, but all in all his injuries don't show signs of infection." The doctor's expression grew somber as he looked at John and added, "I want to keep him here and monitored, but you should know he was subjected to water torture - his breathing is more labored than it should be, so I have him on oxygen. Physically, he'll be alright. But, I just want you to be aware of the sort of emotional trauma that will accompany this."

"Can we see him?" Dean piped up as soon as he sensed the doctor had finished.

"I have him on pretty heavy painkillers at the moment, but yes, I think he'd like to see his family."

Bobby, who had hung back just far enough to give a bit of space while the doctor explained Sam's condition but close enough to hear the details, began to trail behind the Winchesters as the doctor led them away.

Seeing this, Jenkins remarked gently, "I'm sorry, sir, but right now I can only allow family to visit Sam at the moment. If you could-"

"He's..." John interrupted before coughing and looking back at Bobby, "He's...Sam's uncle."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello readers! Apologies that this has taken so long to get out. I couldn't decide how to conclude this, but I knew I wanted to work in a bit of time for Dean and Bobby to start forming a relationship. I think it is a little OOC in general particularly for Dean who even at his most emotional is pretty stoic, but I think of this as one of the first times Dean has been really worried about losing Sam since like the shtriga and definitely the first time a hunter has done the threatening, so he doesn't know how to handle it completely. So hopefully you enjoy!**

After about a week's stay in the hospital, Bobby was relieved to learn that Sam would finally be discharged.

Bobby was more than a little excited to finally be getting away from the crappy motel room he had been sharing with Caleb - not that he spent much time there, given that most of his time was devoted to visiting Sam or running any errands the Winchesters needed. However, mostly he was relieved that Sam was healing.

The days following Sam's rescue had passed in a blur with Sam steadily improving in health under Dr. Jenkins' careful observation. A fever had spiked the first night which frightened the Winchester family a great deal, but it never exceeded 102 degrees and had been steadily declining. Now that it seemed they were out of the woods for risk of infection or other setbacks to Sam's healing, discussions were being held on what to do next had started.

Bobby was admittedly not a part of these conversations, but one afternoon he happened to overhear an argument between John Winchester and Dean as they whispered angrily in the room in the hospital which housed their vending machines. Pastor Jim was attempting to referee, but that essentially amounted to him making sure they kept their voices down. Bobby had been sent to find the family by Dr. Jenkins to give them some discharge information when he heard their hushed voices.

Dean Winchester, who had been surprisingly reserved when not tending to his brother, put his foot down and insisted that they would be spending the next several months - at least a full school year - in one location.

"I don't care where," he asserted to his father. "We're not moving around from hunt to hunt this year. We're staying in one place so he can recover."

John looked like he was considering making an argument, but Dean cut him off, adding, "You're free to go wherever you want, but my brother and I are staying put."

That was that.

Bobby hadn't meant to eavesdrop on this conversation, but he was relieved to hear Dean taking charge.

John Winchester seemed like a good man to Bobby, but in his heart he could tell Dean was the one to trust to make the right choice for his younger brother.

Bobby took the moment of silence to poke his head in just as Pastor Jim insisted that the Winchesters could stay with him.

"Jenkins wants to have a word...discharge instructions, usual stuff," Bobby added so as to not worry the family unnecessarily. The men all nodded their thanks and made to leave the room when Bobby continued, saying, "By the way...if...if you needed somewhere to stay before making your way to Jim's place...I...uh, I'm in the area. Just until Sam's ready to travel."

John was quick to clap Bobby on the back and accept, but Dean eyed Bobby with a wary glance. Although his primary focus had been Sam's care and Bobby had certainly done what he could to assist, Dean wasn't quite ready to trust the man who had started off on the same side as his brother's kidnapper - however short an allegiance it was.

"Only until Sam is ready to travel," Dean acquiesced, his eyes remaining a little more narrow than usual as he gazed at Bobby.

That was that.

*SPN*SPN*SPN*

As soon as Sam was discharged, Bobby frantically returned back to his house with Caleb to attempt to get a room ready for the Winchester's.

"Jesus, old man," Caleb snickered as Bobby searched for clean sheets to put on his guest bed. "You know they're hunters too, right? They'd be comfortable sleeping on the floor if that's all the space you had." Bobby glared at him until Caleb amended, "Well not Sam! And I'm just pointing out they _won't_ be sleeping on the floor. You've got two extra beds and a couch. That's plenty for four people."

"Well I've got six in my house in case you've forgotten," Bobby grumbled.

"Nah, it'll be four," Caleb said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "I talked to Jim, we're gonna get a room in town for a couple of days maybe. We'll be nearby to help out, but...we figured you'd want a little bit of space to breathe in your own house."

Bobby clapped Caleb on the back with a smile and said, "Oh thank hell, I do want room to breathe."

"I'd thank heaven, it was the good pastor's idea..." Caleb mumbled as Bobby resumed preparing his house.

Bobby paused for a moment before turning to Caleb and saying, "Really, Caleb. I don't want to get too sentimental here, but...just...thank you."

Caleb snorted and said, "Don't mince words on my account, Singer." Despite his humor, Caleb was touched by Bobby's gratitude. However, truthfully, he would be lying if he said he didn't feel a bit grateful to Bobby himself. Spending time with the Winchester family reminded him of growing up with his own family. After a few days with the Winchesters, he knew he was in it for the long haul. He'd be spending more time with them, he was sure of that - and thankful that Bobby had brought them into his life, despite the unsavory circumstances.

Caleb was brought out of his reverie at the sound of cars approaching outside. He called to Bobby, "It's gonna have to do as is, Singer. They're here."

*SPN*SPN*SPN*

Time seemed to speed up while the Winchesters were in Bobby's life. Sam was improving by the day and Bobby knew they'd soon be on their way to Pastor Jim's. The Pastor himself was planning on departing in a day or so to make sure everything was in order for their arrival. Caleb had already departed with the Winchester's contact information carefully stored away for future cases - or just to check in on them, but he didn't tell John that as he wheedled a number out of him.

Sam's health really had improved. By the day he was growing more and more active. Having taken a particular liking to Rumsfeld (who returned the favor), he spent his days wandering the scrap yard with the dog under the close and watchful eyes of his brother. Dean barely let Sam out of his sights long enough to use the bathroom these days.

However, each night, even from the couch he'd taken over - figuring the Winchesters would prefer to be as close to each other as possible, Bobby had let the second floor become their territory - Bobby could hear Sam awaken with night terrors. Bobby, who barely knew Sam, was shaken by Sam's screams; his brother was practically inconsolable. Every night Dean would coax Sam back to sleep - sometimes multiple times a night - and then sneak outside for a few minutes of silence and fresh air before returning to Sam's side. Bobby wasn't convinced that he'd slept a wink since Sam had been taken if the bags under his eyes were any indication.

Bobby gave them space, but on one particularly bad night he followed Dean outside when he heard the door close. Most nights Bobby could only hear indiscriminate screaming. On this night he had heard some of Sam's pleading shouts more clearly and felt his heart clench in sympathy. Once the shouting had stopped Bobby could make out Dean's attempts at soothing his brother, but Sam continued to sob softly until he fell back into a troubled sleep.

When Bobby found Dean outside, he hadn't gone far. He was sitting on the steps of the porch, on the side nearest to an open second story window that Bobby knew had been propped open on the off chance that Sam would awaken while Dean was outside. The young man's shoulders were shaking with his sobs. As he heard Bobby's approach, he dragged a hand across his face and panted out a few breaths in an effort to tamp down his emotions. Bobby took a seat beside him.

"Rough night," Bobby murmured, looking at his hands. Dean snorted thickly and said nothing. Bobby waited a minute before continuing, "Sam is getting better by the day, you know. You can see it, I'm sure. Haven't let him out of your sight, so you can see it better than anyone else-"

"-I know, Jesus, I know," Dean ground out before rounding on Bobby, eyes flashing, "And where do you get off, huh? I'm never letting him out of my sight again, pal, look where it got me this time-"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Dean," Bobby said putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. Bobby took out his flask and took a deep drink from it before handing it to Dean. He wasn't entirely sure Dean was twenty one but the kid deserved a shot of whiskey after the week he'd had. "No one blames you, Dean, least of all your brother. I know you know that, but the sooner you start to believe it yourself the better."

They were quiet for several minutes and Bobby was ready to try again, when Dean whispered softly, "He asked me today if I thought he was a monster. He already told me that he was worried more hunters would come after him, hell even our Dad maybe...but I didn't think he'd be afraid of me. I mean, Jesus. What am I supposed to do? When more hunters do come after him, huh? What am I supposed to do?" Dean put his head in his hands and choked out a sob.

Bobby was silent for a moment as he processed Dean's words. He gripped Dean's shoulder a little more tightly and whispered, "He's not afraid you'll hurt him, son. He's afraid he'll lose you. Don't get those confused." Bobby paused and added, "And you already know the answer to those questions. If something comes after your brother, you do what you've done your whole life - you watch out for him. Keep him safe, no matter what."

A tear dripped down Dean's face as he nodded to Bobby's words.

"And if that day comes when there are hunters breathing down your neck and coming after your brother...well, you've got my number.

Dean met Bobby's eyes, sniffles, and managed to get out a quiet, "Thanks."

Dean stood and turned as if to go back inside, but Bobby stopped him, saying, "Dean, don't worry about him so much. He's getting better. You just worry about showing him there's no way he'd ever lose you."

Dean nodded and gave Bobby the smallest of smirks, commenting, "That shouldn't be too hard since he's never leaving my sight again."

With that, he returned to the room he was sharing with Sam.

Somehow Sam slept peacefully the rest of the night.

*SPN*SPN*SPN*

When all was said and done, Bobby's first meeting with the Winchester family had only been a couple of weeks long. Eventually Sam had been deemed well enough for a drive and they had packed up and left Singer Salvage quiet and empty.

The departure of the Winchesters left Bobby feeling unusually conflicted. He felt the lack of their presence deeply, having grown accustomed to a full home and watching Sam and Dean - and even John to some extent - grow over the course of their stay.

But Bobby realized he felt another emotion more keenly, more deeply. He felt a sense of joy and hope that he thought had long disappeared with his wife. He had a chance to be a part of a family again. He owed it to Karen, the Winchesters, and himself to make it count.

As the Winchesters left - John with a a gruff "Thank you," Dean with a grudging nod of approval and a firm handshake, and Sam with a shy smile and gentle hug - Bobby knew that this wasn't an ending, but a new beginning.

He had a feeling he'd be seeing a lot more of these Winchesters.

 **The End**

 **Thank you to all who have read this story! It has been a blast writing, hopefully I can come up with some new ideas and get some more stories out there.**


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